The Clomb of Life

In small measures, and big,
I have been ousted
by a medley of sounds ––
hurled at me
by forces human and divine.

In their omnipresence, my torments
run all the way around ––
back and forth,
up and down,
the spiral Clomb of my Life.

My path is clearly invisible,
mangled in an array of doubts.
My goals snarl at my being,
and at every smidgen headway
of mine.

Beyond years of churlish living,
where will my soul take me?
To Hell’s ever-seething caves,
swathe of burning fields,
or, floral coves of Paradise?

At this moment, I hang in peril ––
indeed, in deep peril ––
and my state in disdain, pouts.
Am I to daub on darkness,
or, somewhere, at the end is light!

Geeta Chhabra